Can't Get It Outta My Head








                A Baby Boomer


       Muses on The Music

Smoke Gets on Your Eau

I was driving one day last week, when it came on the satellite radio — one of the most recognizable opening riffs in all of rock: dat-dat-DA, dat-dat-Da-da. No, not “Sunshine of Your Love.” That would be da-da—da-DA-da da-da. Or something like that. Good guess, though, because that’s probably played as much by beginners as the beginning of “Smoke on the Water.” Listening to Deep Purple’s FM classic rock chestnut, I wondered about the story it tells. I remembered hearing that it was based on an actual event, but Ian Gillan’s-words-get-in-the-way vocalizing of the lyrics made the details hard to understand. So I checked it out. As the first two lines of the song make clear enough — the clarity

He Played in Peoria

This post originally was supposed to be about two artists, Dan Fogelberg and Emmylou Harris, specifically two of their albums that I had heard little of but listened to during my final evening outdoor audio adventure of the fall. But “a chance meeting in Middle Earth,” as Gandalf the Gray would say, turned it into a Fogelberg solo. That chance meeting was the result of last weekend’s stay in Peoria, Ill., a side-trip off a visit to Jeanne’s aunt and uncle in eastern Land of Lincoln. Friday was a sunny and warmer day, so on arrival we went to the city’s waterfront to get some fresh air and exercise. The Peoria RiverFront is nicely done, with parks, walking paths, a marina where the Spirit of

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